Stuck On You
by ThePointGirl
Summary: Arthur and Eames are stuck in an elevator with only each other to occupy the time... light angst.  It's slash, I warn you : Chapters will come up if you like it.


**Title: **

**Author:** ThePointGirl

**Fandom:** Inception

**Pairing:** Arthur & Eames

**Warnings:** None really apart from that it is SLASH.

**Feedback:** Review or message. (Hint, hint. Thank you)

**Disclaimer:** **Chris Nolan owns Inception** along with the characters and the sets.

**Notes: **Post-film fiction.

Also gah... I wished this would happen to me in a hotel lift. Either Joseph Gordon Levitt or Tom Hardy would _so _be fine for me :)

* * *

Arthur heaved a sigh and looked around the five feet by five feet steel box.

He was stuck in an elevator: with Eames.

"The last time I was in an elevator this size I was trying to keep on the floor, now defying gravity seems like a good idea" Arthur grumbled.

"Well I have to say Arthur the last time I was stuck in a lift" and Arthur rolled his eyes at the Englishman's lapse in to colloquial English terms. "I was in London. I was eight and on my own. At least now I have company" Eames flashed a grin at the other man's direction. They were sitting opposite each other, partly due to the fact that when the elevator or lift (whatever you ant to call it) stopped they were stand pretty much opposite. Neither could make the effort to move.

"What were you doing on your own in a hotel – never mind" Arthur seemed to rethink his question.

"Okay" Eames stated and Arthur looked at him. Dark, dull, different eyes looked right into Eames.

"Do you like filling the air space with your voice even if what you're saying doesn't actually help the human race around you?" Arthur asked.

Eames ignored the question.

"I have an idea" Eames stated.

"Should I be worried?" Arthur asked, not changing his expression. He was used to Eames. He tolerated the man. Some might regard the two of them as casual friends.

But friends wasn't really what Eames would like, ever since he laid eyes on Arthur he had made it his goal to have the man in his bed.

"Truths. Not Dares because – well I think that is obvious" Eames rambled.

"You must be bored. And Eames it's no point, I know too much about you as I am"

"You've been reading my file?"

"No listening to you talk"

"Well Arthur dear, I want to find a few things out about you. I promise it won't leave theses four walls. If it does, you have my command to shoot me. Not that you would need telling"

Arthur gave a small smile at Eames' observations. The Forger was learning – slowly – but he was learning.

"Alright" Arthur finally said he had nothing else to do, it was either that or silence. Silence wasn't something that went down well with Arthur. This was mainly because he had got used to Eames' voice. Not used to it in _that_ way….

"Ask away" Arthur wasn't normally one to share, however, he had come to trust Eames on some insane level. Eames beamed like a four-year-old. Cute. Almost.

The questions ranged from basic trivia that his file did not state, to teenage angst. Eames noted Arthur was becoming quieter and shorter in his answers. Interesting…

"Tell me, how many guys have you – well – done anything with?" Eames asked with no hint of a laugh.

"One" and Eames' eyebrows shot up.

"One? When? Where? Only one?" the four questions (well three if you don't count the repeated one) were said in a flow of language.

"When I was fifteen, in a bar, on a pool table. I lost a round – it was the forfeit" Arthur said simply. Eames hummed.

"Funny, you know, you not being good at snooker – pool –" he corrected as if noticing he was speaking to a born and bred American. Not that it would matter, Arthur had the intelligence to translate whatever Eames says. "You have good eye sight and an eye for angles and straight bloody lines. You and your paradox stairs, hell they are hard to get round" Eames exclaimed. Arthur smirked. The job they had right after the Fischer case Arthur used the paradox stairs, confusing the hell out of the projections. Eames got disorientated but had common sense and was still sane enough to remove himself from the trouble.

There was silence again. It was odd.

"I suppose you didn't like it?" Eames asked. Arthur, who was looking at the ceiling, stared at the man for a moment. Arthur's chocolate eyes mirrored his thought process. Eames could tell he was mentally tracing back to what they were talking about before paradox stairs. That was what he loved, those looks they shared. Ariadne had picked up on them. It was what you could call curious angst. Each look trying to go deeper into the other.

"I can't remember, I just remember the game and jeering" Arthur breathed.

"Arthur-" at the mention of his name, the Point Man looked more alert. Clearly doing nothing wears the younger man out. "What would you say if I checked whether –"

"I liked it or not?" Arthur's eyes conveyed no disgust but humour. Eames shrugged.

"I am bored, and it is an enquiry or your sake – and mine" Eames stood up stretching like a cat. Arthur looked up at him. Taking in the whole bodily appearance of Eames. Quite a bulky figure – not fat – just built with tough shoulders, like a soccer player and a narrow waist. His body held onto the boyish innocence he supplies too many people with. Eames looked down at Arthur and Arthur looked at the face. Eames as handsome, definitely. He had a charm. Maybe it was his accent that kept Arthur listening when he spoke? Green to blue with a flicker of brown eyes… Arthur wet his lips…damn…

Eames placed himself once again on the floor, this time next to Arthur. The elevator could fit the two comfortably side by side. Arthur had his knees drawn up to rest his arms on. A passé mans' pose. Letting his head drop back with an indistinguishable thud onto metal Arthur closed his eyes. He wished something would happen. Wished that the elevator would suddenly collapse into free fall, falling… falling to the depths of somewhere, just anything but this…

Arthur felt warmth against his lips. It felt like a –

"What was?" he began, opening his eyes. "Eames I don't think you can call that a kiss. I didn't even know what it was for a second" Arthur stated.

"Well – I didn't really want to directly stick my tongue in your mouth out of nowhere. Forgive my politeness – of which you nag me about" Eames offered in response. Arthur chuckled at this.

Eames lent forward and caught Arthur's mouth when it was still partly open. Arthur responded. He couldn't remember what the kiss with that boy on the pool table felt like, but he was sure it was nothing compared to this. Arthur felt suddenly hot in his shirt. He had lost his tie ages ago for fear of suffocation. But Eames' touches wee setting his skin on fire. Steamy breaths, chemicals running through their veins the two men got lost in feeling. One of Eames' hand had gone to cup Arthur's cheek, but in involuntarily drifted south. It was natural for Eames to be swift, but he got a little scared. This was Arthur, they had barely touched on being 'friends' and now they were going to sleep together? Eames' hand ghosted over the tops of Arthur's crotch. He jumped a little when Arthur let out a whine next to his ear. Arthur tugged at the – for once – tucked in shirt around Eames' waist. This was all happening to fast to be real. At which point Eames panted:

"We're not dreaming are we?" he asked Arthur who shook his head.

"Definitely not" and he recited all what had happened prior to being stuck in the elevator. This was good.

"Right" Eames nodded and noticed they had stopped what they were doing, Eames concentrated solely upon hearing Arthur moan again.

What scared the life out of the pair was the sudden movement of the elevator and the 'ping' of doors opening.

* * *

_Ohoohhoh ... my poor boys.. well poor Arthur... caught in the act. Bad as having your Blackberry ringing because of Cobb whilst.. well *ahem* _

_Reviews are dammed gorgeus... gimme a few and I'll send a few back :)  
_


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